nae bard o'

O! there's nae bard o' nature sin' Robin's awa',
Nae sangster amang us has half o' his art;
There was nae fonder lover an' nae kinder heart;-
Then wae to the wight wha wad wince at a flaw,
To tarnish the honours of him that's awa'.
If he had some fauts, I could never them see,-
They're nae to be sung by sick gilpies as me;
He likit us weel, an' we likit him a',-
O, there's nae sickan callan sin' Robin's awa'.
Whene'er I sing late at the milkin' my kyc,
I look up to heaven an' say with a sigh,
Although he's now gane, he was king o' them a',—
Ah! there's nae bard o' nature sin' Robin's awa'

Moderato.

rea-son my daugh-ter and I

My daughter is handsome,-no girl's so well dress'd; Her gowns alone cost me a hundred a year! 'Mongst the waltzers at Almack's she's reckon'd the best,

And the women all envy her figure, I hear!
Yet, despite of her beauty, she often sits by,
Whilst the men are all crowding round little
Miss Rouse;

She's sure to be ask'd-whilst my daughter and I
Are always excluded from Dorsetshire House!
Ev'ry week I have call'd on his niece at his door;
I have ask'd all his cousins to dinner in turn-
Left my card with his sisters-what can I do more?
Since they never have visited me in return.
I don't care for the ball; but you all will agree,
'Tis enough to provoke one, when little Miss
Rouse

Comes sneeringly up to my daughter and me

Ut course I shall meet you at Dorsetshire House!' Tis in vain that we open our house all the year, And give entertainments of every sort; Have a box at the Opera, on the best tier,

And are seen at the balls and the parties at Court!

Larghetto.

lone are ex- cluded from Dor-set-shire House?

In spite of it all, still my daughter and I [Rouse
Are doom'd to neglect; whilst that little Miss
Has the world at her feet, and-I cannot tell why-
She is always invited to Dorsetshire House!

I would give up my efforts, abandon each hape,
And try to grow callous to every slight;
But I cannot endure that we only should mope,
When the town is all radiant with joy and delight.
They tell me my girl (and I think they are right)
Shares the heart of a Marquis with little Miss
Rouse:

O! he might have propos'd to my daughter to-night,
Had we been but invited to Dorsetshire House!
There's a rap at the door!-O! perhaps 'tis a card!
I am trembling with hope-and I'm breathless
with fear!

Nay-'tis only a note!-O! my fate is too hard! Then we shall not be ask'd to this party, 'tis clear! But what do I read?-O! I'm ready to fall!The Marquis is going to marry Miss Rouse!!She tells me 'twas settled last week at the ball, From which we were excluded, at Dorsetshire House!

some-bo-dy, My own dear some-bo-dy, my